Forgotten Yesterday
by One Shot Glory
Summary: ONESHOT Mark reflects on his childhood primarily his father and a couple of the moments that made him who he is today.


**Mark reflects on his childhood, primarily his father, one day, and comes up with a couple stories that helped defy who he is today.**

**(Of course, I don't own RENT) **

* * *

The dull wood of the loft's floor reminds me of the barn that set outside my grandparent's house. It was empty. Empty like almost everything else in my life. The moldy troughs and iron cells showed the ghost of what used to be a great farm.

The slight, almost unrecognizable, smell of hay lingers. The hole in the roof tries to take away the relief from the cold that the barn has given Cindy and me. Mom, Dad, Grandma, and Grandpa always told us not to come out here. It was dangerous.

The thrill of the idea that we weren't supposed to be out there and the knowing that something unexpected could happen drifted us out there towards the barn one cold November afternoon.

Grandma and Grandpa were supposed to be "watching" us (even though we were 11 and 13 and capable of taking care of ourselves), but they had fallen asleep watching a poker tournament.

Cindy, being the controlling 13 year old version of my mother, dragged me out there. I didn't want to go; the barn had a looming rundown look to it and it always slightly scary to me. But Cindy was persistent, she always had been. She would never stop until she got what she wanted, no matter how far she had to go to get it. Her and Joanne would be good friends.

I couldn't say no to her, that's my biggest problem sometimes, the incapability of saying no, the thought that I have to make everyone happy, that everyone else's happiness comes before mine. That's what my mom always told me. She was a strict Catholic who married a strict Jewish man. She always told Cindy and me that other people come before us; dad always told us that we had to do whatever it takes to get to the top. At the age of 11 that was very confusing.

So, Cindy and I went out into the forbidden barn. The one and only thing we weren't aloud to touch at my grandparent's house.

"Come on Marky it will be fun." Cindy whined.

"I don't want to get in trouble. Mom and Dad say that we can get hurt."

"Marky would I ever let anything happen to you?" She gave me the pouty look that she knew I couldn't resist.

I sighed and let her drag my scrawny 11 year old body out to the barn.

"Cindy it's scary."

"Stop being such a baby Mark." She slowly moved the cinder block out from in front of the door.

"You open it Marky."

With my nonexistent ability to say no, I opened the barn door.

"Well, go ahead Marky." Cindy lightly pushed me into the barn.

I walk in prepared for anything, for something to jump out at me or attack me, and I was slightly disappointed when no such thing happened.

"It's too dark Cindy."

"That's why I brought Papaw's flashlight." She clicks on the flashlight and a dusty beam of light hits a pile of empty potato sacks.

She swings the light around, nothing too exciting just the same old stuff you would see in an old barn.

She points the flashlight upward and notices a top level.

"Ooo Marky lets go up there!"

"But how?"

She scans the wall of the barn and finds an attached wooden ladder.

"That's how Marky."

"No Cindy. I don't want to."

"Sure you do now go." She says again lightly pushing me.

I sigh knowing that no matter what I was going up there. I climb the unsafe wooden ladder and make it to the top.

"What's up there Mark?"

"I can't see anything."

"Here," she says and throws the flashlight up.

I miss the catch and the light lands by what seems to be the hood of an old car. I stumble towards it. I'm standing right above it and leaning down to get it when I hear the crunching under me.

The next thing I remember is lying in the car across my grandma's lap. My left arm and head ache. I'm disoriented and have no idea what is going on.

I try to sit down but my grandma pushes me back down, "Lay down Mark you had a nasty fall."

"Grandma my arm hurts."

"I know honey. You fell in the barn. We always told you not to go in there, love. You should have listened to Cindy when she told you not to."

"What? Cindy didn't tell me not to."

"Honey you're a little confused."

"No. I'm not confused Gran. Cindy made me go in there with her." I look towards the passenger seat of the car where Cindy is riding and talking to my grandpa.

"Tell her Cind. Tell her that you made me go in there."

Cindy looked back at me and smirked, "I don't have any idea what your talking about Mark." She turned back around.

I sat up, "Gran you have to believe me!"

"Lie back down Mark! We are almost to the hospital. The truth is I would believe Cindy over you any day."

We finally arrived at the hospital, my grandmother refused to fill out any paperwork till my parents got there so I had to sit waiting with a throbbing pain in my arm, trying not to cry. Crying is a sign of weakness.

When my parents got there my mother went instantly to start on the paper work and my father wouldn't even look me in the eye. He just kept giving me these sideway glances and looks of pure disappointment.

I was so ashamed. Then and there I realized that nothing I would ever do would make my father happy. I was the son that he never wanted. I was exactly the opposite of what he had hoped for.

I was scrawny and resembled my mother in everyway. I didn't stand up for myself. I didn't like sports or any other "boy things".

He was disappointed in everything I did. I promised myself that day that I would stop trying to make him happy and do what he always told us, do whatever it takes to make it to the top, and the top at that time was getting the hell out of Scarsdale.

* * *

The metal table in the loft reminds me of the sink in the kitchen back in Scarsdale. 

I was shiny and old. But, my mother loved the damn thing. That's the only reason why dishes weren't one of my or Cindy's chores.

I was 15 and sitting at the long wooden oak table attempting to do my Algebra homework.

I'm stuck on the problem 5(-3x - 2) - (x - 3) -4(4x 5) 13 when my dad walks in.

"Hi Dad." I say nonchalantly like I do everyday.

He just grunts back not even looking at me like he does everyday.

I just sigh going back to my math problem. About 15 minutes later I hear my name being called from the living room.

My heart skips a beats, it's my dad and he doesn't sound happy.

I jump off the kitchen chair and slowly make my way into the living room.

"Yeah dad?"

"Your History teacher just called, Mr. Barnes is his name?"

"Mr. Bradley?"

"Yes. That's it. He just called and wants your mother and I to come in and discuss your failing grade."

"Oh." I say looking down at the ground.

I try to think back at he reason to why I might be failing and then I remember the project on Rasputin that Roger and I never turned on.

"Oh? That's all you can say is oh? How about I'm sorry dad because you have to take an hour out of your day to talk to my teacher about my grade? Or how about I'm sorry dad for disappointing you? That's all you are Mark you're a disappointment to me and your mother."

I glare at him knowing that I should bite my tongue and just take it.

His mindlessy rambles on about how good at school Cindy is and how Cindy would never get an F went on for a couple minutes.

I finally broke down and started to cry.

"Your such a pansy! I'm yelling and you're crying? Go up to your room. I don't expect to see you down here for a very long fucking time."

I fling myself up the stairs and slam my door. I start to pace, like I always do when I'm nervous, that's probably the only thing I inherited from my father.

I sit on my bed and rest my head in my hands.

I decide that as soon as I graduate, I'm out of there. I'll leave and show my dad just how big of a fucking disappointment I am.

* * *

As I sit here and think about my dad. I've come to realize that he wasn't all that bad. He didn't come into my room drunk every night and beat the crap out of me like Roger's dad did. He didn't knock up my mom and then leave, like Collins' dad did. He didn't do drugs, like Maureen's dad did. 

He just didn't like me. I know he loved me, but he certainly didn't like me.

He never accepted who I was, he just looked at me for what I wasn't, the perfect son.

Now that he's gone and all I have are memories of his sorry ass, I wonder what I could have done differently. I guess I could have tried harder. I could have at least taken him up on his offers to take me outside to throw a football, but I didn't.

Then I wonder what he could have done differently. He could have accepted me for who the hell I was and still am. He could have supported me. He could have told me he loved me, but he didn't. He could have at least acted like he was proud of me.

Was he proud of me?

Of course not.

Am I proud of myself?

Hell no.

* * *

**Thanks for reading.**

** Please review.**

** (If you want you could check out my other stories. They are all RENT ONESHOTS)**

** -Finn **


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